Poetry About Bears
Trapped in a cave of soggy wool,
mistakenly swallowed bones,
some distant fishy smell, the juice
of red hard berries, soft wild blueberries, woodland strawberries,
the foraged corks of black walnuts,
I curl in valley at the bottom of your stomach
where apple seeds swallowed whole sprout
young-necked and curious.
I eat only what the bear can spare: chewed hunks of salmon,
if I’m lucky, a drop or two of cold white water.